Nâlu

Kalî crept along the tree line. It was near dawn and she'd been watching the forest for two hours, having seen no signs of activity from within, at least as far as she could see through the trees. Thenisorn had insisted there would be patrols, but she'd not seen any evidence yet. The Rohirrim warned her that the elves were much stealthier than men and that any trespasser wouldn't even know the elves were there until they found an arrow between their eyes.

Kalî didn't pay any mind to tall tales and drunken ramblings, and she was fairly sure these stories were drawn up from the experiences of stupid, bumbling men fumbling through the forest like wild pigs. Kalî was more than confident in her ability to slip through the forests undetected. She was the best burglar in the fleet and a deadly scout, to boot. And besides, if elves were damn clever, their kind shouldn't have been so easily annihilated in Sutherland.

She had been a Corsair of Umbar for centuries. She joined when she was at the end of her means, and then stayed as a means to an end. For hundreds of years she fought, and plundered, killed and captured. Honing her skills and becoming notorious amongst her people.

However, when the Corsairs sailed for Gondor under the colors of war she decided it was time to leave. Hostith was long dead, but he had been a man of Gondor and, while she'd spent most of her life pirating their coasts, she had no desire to bring war to his kin.

There was also the fact that, over the years she'd investigated and interrogated thousands of leads, and was still no closer to uncovering the meaning of his last words to her. Taking her search inland seemed the next logical step, so she made for the Gap of Rohan as soon as her feet hit the earth.

Leaving the Corsairs had been a serious risk. Desertion was a treachery most high, and if it weren't for the war and the long winter at Helms Deep, she may have easily been hunted down by her own crew. If they even survived long enough to notice her absence.

It was a Rohirrim named Thenisorn who gave her the most promising lead she'd had in over 600 years; to the north, within forests of Lothlórien, there was a place such as Hostith had described. And when spring broke, she returned with the people to Edoras, then made preparations to leave immediately.

The Rohirrim tried to convince her not to go, that the elves would not look kindly on her. Thenisorn offered to accompany her, as he at least spoke a little of the Elvish tongue, but Kalî declined. She didn't know what it was she was looking for or what she might find there, and she had no desire for a companion.

Mostly she didn't want to explain why she was chasing after the whispers of a dying man.

With the sun rising, Kalî crept ever closer and stepped lightly into the trees. The air around her changed the moment she set foot onto the soft moss and passed into the waning darkness of the wood.

Kalî couldn't have been traveling for more than an hour, easing her way west along the river, when she felt it. The undeniable sense of someone watching her.

She fell against the trunk of a large tree and froze, searching for movement among the trees. She saw only forest in the early dawn light. The only motion was the gentle dance of the trees amidst the breeze, but that did not assuage her unease. She could hear the soft tickling of the leaves on the wind, the crooning lilt of songbirds in the canopy, and the agitated chatter of creatures on the forest floor.

But there was something else.

She rose, leaping softly from root to root and avoiding the fallen leaves and brambles that may crunch underfoot. She stayed in the shadows of the great trees, and her keen eyes were on guard for any movement.

Kalî could always see farther and hear clearer than any seasoned corsair. And her sense of intuition was overall frightening. Someone was here and watching her, of that much she was certain.

She fell into a crouch between the roots of a large tree. She closed her eyes and breathed as slowly and deeply as she could. Her hands fell to the hilts of her daggers, drawing comfort from the feel of their handles and the chill of the pommels against her palms.

As much as she preferred to not engage with any elves, she began to consider now that it might very well be inevitable. She was being followed, and she was, after all, trespassing. If she couldn't evade them as well as she thought, a confrontation would be unavoidable. She meant no harm, but she was prepared to fight if she had to.

Leaning her head back against the trunk, she stayed silent and listened.

Just wind. Just leaves.

She slowly opened her eyes. The rising sun had brightened the forest around her, and the light hit her eyes harshly. Kalî winced. For a moment, she considered heading back to town. Even though she liked to think she was more open-minded than her Eldar-hating brethren, she was still highly disturbed by the thought of encountering any elves.

She had never even seen one before. They may as well have been ghosts or dragons to her, she had no idea what she even would do if she found herself in the presence of one. But, whatever it was that was here that was important enough for Hostith to use the little strength he had left to tell her of it… she had to know, and this was the closest she'd been in over 700 years. Elves or no elves.

She took a deep breath and rose to her feet soundlessly. She took a slow, hard look around and stepped up onto the root.

"Mae govannen." A male's voice said suddenly.

She swallowed thickly as she heard a soft crunch from behind her.

Speak of the devil…

"Man le carel sí?" He asked.

Kalî kept her head down, raised her hands and slowly turned to face him.

Elvish Translations:

Mae govannen! ... Well met!

Man le carel sí? ... What are you doing here?

Adûnaic Translations:

Nâlu ... shadow